


If You Forget Me

by Kelkat9



Series: Greek Gods - The Adventures of Hades and Persephone and Their Friends [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Curses, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Memory Loss, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9738635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelkat9/pseuds/Kelkat9
Summary: Persephone and her mother have disappeared.  Hades learns Hera, using some of Zeus sacred fire, worked a curse stealing their memories and their power.  Now Persephone and her mother live in a council estate flat thinking they are Rose and Jackie Tyler.  In order to break the curse, Hades must find and woo Rose, reminding her of who she is and cause her to fall in love with him all over again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [naturalblues](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturalblues/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to natural-blues who bid on my writing and so kindly made a donation to Planned Parenthood. She also suggested this wonderfully creative plot bunny. Thank you so much my dear talented friend!
> 
> This is Part 3 of my Greek Gods verse. If you haven't read the first two, this won't make sense.
> 
> This is unbetaed so I could get it posted ASAP since I am behind. I will post the rest as soon as I work through the plot :) I'm marking this as explicit but don't know if it will end up that. Just being cautious.
> 
> Peter V = Hades  
> Rose = Persephone  
> Donna = Athena  
> Martha = Artemis  
> Jack = Heracles  
> Rory = Apollo  
> The Master = Ares  
> Amy = Daphne  
> Mickey= Hermes  
> Wilf = Zeus  
> River = Hera  
> Twelfth Doctor with a touch of Malcolm = Dionysus  
> Clara = Calliope  
> Astrid = Euterpe

_The Underworld, Domain of Hades_

“What do you mean Persephone’s missing?” Hades snarled at Apollo. Launching himself up from his ornate black metal throne, he hurled a goblet of wine across the cavernous room.

“Both she and Demeter disappeared.”

“They’re goddesses. They don’t just disappear!” Hades spat out and focused his godly powers on seeking out his beloved. “Persephone,” he called out across the Earth, his growling voice carrying across wind and water. No warm, melodic voice answered.

Fury ripped through him in waves of fire hotter than Tartarus. His long black coat flared around him as he stormed across the torch-lit stone room lined with tapestries. The walls trembled and rocks crumbled around him. Apollo ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed. His lover, Daphne, known on Earth as Amy, clung to his side, eyeing Hades warily.

“What happened?” Hades directed his anger at Daphne before Apollo stepped in front of her. 

She shoved him aside, flipping her ginger hair and raising her chin to face Hades. “They went for a walk in the fields and didn’t return,” she tartly informed him, green eyes reflecting as much worry as Hades’ rage. “Artemis and I searched everywhere.”

“No,” Hades’ voice echoed across the Underworld. “They’re somewhere.” He paced back and forth, his demonic minions scurrying out of sight. “No one takes my wife, not even Demeter. She knows better than to try something like this.”

“What about Ares?” Apollo asked, arm wrapped around Daphne. “It’s not like he hasn’t tried shit like this before. Remember the bar?”

“That was different,” Hades hissed, his gaze igniting fires around the room. “He doesn’t have the power to remove a goddess from existence.”

“Noooo, but--” Apollo rubbed at his stubble covered jaw and looked at Daphne whose mouth dropped.

“But what?” Hades bellowed.

Heracles marched into the room, his boots an ominous echo, followed by Cerberus growling and hissing at his heels.

“What are you doing here?” Hades demanded, smoke curling around him in his rage.

“All of Olympus is talking about how Demeter and Persephone have vanished and the Earth suffers as a result.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the Earth,” Hades snapped, marching over to Heracles. Cerberus’ scaled body curled around his legs.

“Some of us do.” Heracles nodded at Apollo. “Athena heard gossip from a muse that Hera had something big planned in celebration of Ares’ birthday. She and Zeus are in the Caribbean on vacation. Now, usually, I’d assume it was some new torment she’d planned for me.”

“But this time she went bigger… much bigger,” Apollo added.

Hades growled, leaning down to run his hand across one of Cerberus’ snouts. “No one takes my wife.”

“We need to talk to the muses,” Apollo added, raking a hand through his already disheveled hair. “They might have heard something more.” 

Daphne grabbed Apollo by the lapels of his long brown coat and snogged him. “Stay out of the line of fire. I want you back without too many holes.” She raked her nails down his lavender dress shirt as his eyes drifted to the décolletage of her green wrap dress.

“I’m coming with you,” Heracles volunteered.

A growl rumbled in Hades chest. “I’ll handle this myself.”

“Actually, Herc might help,” Apollo suggested, tearing his gaze away from Daphne. “I mean they do sort of like him and--” Apollo winced at Heracles’ grin. “He’s all heroic and beloved even when he’s off on some sexual conquest.” 

Daphne smacked him on the shoulder. “He saves humanity and honors them with poetry and tributes. Women like that, especially muses.”

“Enough!” Hades bellowed. He knelt before Cerberus and whispered in an ancient dialect. His pet’s forked tongues slid out against Hades’ cheek. “Good girl.” He patted his trusted guardian on the head. “We leave now.”

#

In a gust of wind and swirling leaves, Hades, Apollo, and Heracles arrived to see the Muses. 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Apollo asked, rubbing his arms as he stared at the sign for Coal Hill School.

Hades strode forward toward a black wrought iron fence, his long black coat sprinkled with snow flurries. “This is where the muses are. All nine of them,” he spit out and frowned.

The sound of singing children drifted in the unseasonably icy August wind.

“Well, they are muses,” Heracles added, buttoning up his coat. “Inspiring is sort of their job. A school makes sense.”

“Children?” Apollo snorted. “Last time I saw Calliope she was having a bit more fun at a music festival - Woodstock, I think.”

A door opened and a petite woman with brown hair cut in a short bob emerged. Wearing black stockings with a long navy coat over a cardigan and plaid skirt, she stormed over to them. She was followed by a similarly dressed perky blonde with short curly hair.

“What are you doing here?” the first woman demanded.

“I could ask you the same,” Hades rumbled, flicking snow from his arm.

“We’re teaching, inspiring young minds to greatness, unlike some people.” 

Heracles stepped forward, a brilliant smile lighting his face. “I love inspiring people, just the bigger variety.”

“You would!” she replied with a snort.

“Hi, Jack!” the blonde said with a lightness to her face, her blue eyes alight with enthusiasm.

“Astrid!” Heracles stepped forward and embraced her in a huge hug. “Nice to see a friendly face and especially the muse of music and all things delightful!”

“And what Earthly moniker have you chosen?” Apollo asked the muse he knew as Calliope.

“Clara Oswald - Miss Oswald to you,” she stated and tipped her chin up, brown eyes glaring at all three of the men.

“Enough pleasantries!” Hades growled. “I understand you have information I need.”

“I have something the great magician Peter Vincent needs?” Clara smirked. 

“It’s because of Persephone, isn’t it?” Astrid added, bumping her shoulder against Jack’s. She widened her eyes and covered her mouth before correcting herself. “I mean Rose!” She looked skyward and mouthed, “Sorry.”

“What do you know?” Hades demanded, his voice low and rumbling. 

Clara stepped in between him and Astrid. “I know many things. The question is why don’t you know? She is your wife.” 

Hades skin heated until the snow around his feet melted into icy puddles. Calliope might be the muse of lyrical poetry but she had a dark side. He’d heard Dionysus had a fling with her, except she fell in love with him. Possibly due to a miss-shot arrow by Eros. 

Dionysus, being the prick he was, abandoned her. Hades couldn’t blame Calliope for being bitter. His own heart iced over each moment he was separated from Persephone. Now he had to deal with a pissed off muse. Even dealing with a muse under better circumstances was never an easy task. Especially one who already had a chip on her shoulder.

“Don’t play games with me, Clara.” 

“But gods are so good at them.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me why I should help you?”

“Because Rose and her mother are missing and the whole Earth will suffer if I don’t find them.”

“You care about the Earth? Ha!” She crossed her arms. “Try again!”

“Clara, he’s right.” Astrid curled her arm through Clara’s and cuddled close to her side. “Look at the Earth. The humans are calling it a weather anomaly. The Thames is freezing. The children can barely bundle up against the cold.” Blue eyes gazed pleadingly at Clara who smiled softly and caressed Astrid’s cheek before turning back to Hades.

“Why hasn’t Zeus stepped in?” she demanded.

“Because Hera is entertaining him in the Caribbean,” Apollo responded, stamping his feet in the snow as he tightened his coat around him.

“That’s not good,” Astrid said with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“And no one else will do anything?” Clara asked. “Seriously, the wanker magician is it?”

“Rose is his wife. If anyone has a chance at this it’s him,” Heracles answered. 

Hades stretched his neck and swallowed hard. A god did what he must to find his beloved. “Please help me find them.” 

Clara stared long and hard at him. “All right but you have to do something for me.” 

He snorted, having known that was coming. “And what may I do for the lovely muse of poetry?” he asked, his words laced with a bitter edge.

“I want that egotistical, two faced shite Dionysus to suffer!”

“Rules,” Apollo coughed into his hand.

“Fine. Elvis. I want him to suffer. Burn his temples and his beloved vineyard!” She clenched her fists and looked off in the distance. “Yes, that would do it.” 

“I can’t do that,” Hades responded with an annoyed sigh. “Much as I’d enjoy causing a little suffering to the prat, my dear brother is protecting him.”

“He’s on holiday!” Clara retorted as a chilly wind swirled snow around her boots.

“Clara, my sweet lovely darling,” Astrid pulled Clara into her arms before stepping back and tucking a few chocolate strands behind Clara’s ear. She smiled and traced her fingertips across Clara’s jaw. “Don’t waste time on Elvis. He’s over, done with and wasting away in some vat of wine alone and pitiful. We are here, you and I.” 

Clara’s face softened. “You’re right. It’s just, he’s a piece of shit. And he should suffer!”

“Peter Vincent here took back his frogs,” Apollo informed her. “And then there was the whole curse thing by that little pissant War.” 

Hades glared at him.

“He loved those frogs,” Astrid noted with a sly smile. 

“War? What did he do?” Clara demanded.

“It doesn’t matter! The miserable guitar strumming arsehole suffered!” Hades replied gruffly.

Clara smiled and bumped her hip against Astrid. “I like the sound of this.” 

“Enough of this blogging!” Hades bellowed. The sidewalk cracked beneath his feet. “Just fucking tell me what you want and tell me where my Rose is!” 

Astrid leaned over and whispered into Clara’s ear. Clara’s eyes widened, and she turned and tugged Astrid into a long lingering snog ending in flushed faces all around and Astrid giggling.

“I want Orpheus’ Lute.” Clara arched her brow and stared at Hades expectantly. 

Annoyance prickled at the back of his neck. He had no time for petty muses or their materialistic desires. But he needed Clara to talk to him.

“Fine.” He growled and stared downward at the dark crack zig zagging beneath his boots. “Cerberus, fetch!”

As a howling wind swirled snow and tugged at their coats, the three headed scaled protector of the Underworld appeared. A golden lute grasped in one of its fanged mouths, it trotted over to Hades and sat. Its armored tail scraped at the sidewalk sweeping ice aside.

“Good dog.” Hades patted each head before retrieving the lute and holding it outward. 

“It’s covered in slobber,” Clara noted, with Astrid cooing over Hades’ mascot.

“Fuck,” Hades muttered and wiped it off on his coat sleeve. “Tell me where my wife is,” he demanded with gritted teeth.

“Of course,” Clara answered sweetly, fingers running over the long musical instrument. “Our lovely leader’s wife conjured a curse, a powerful spell that I doubt even you can break.”

“Uh oh,” Heracles ran a hand through his hair, shaking loose snow. “That’s never good.”

“What sort of curse?” Apollo asked, eyes darting around nervously.

“The kind that steals memories and godly powers,” Astrid answered, again curling up to Clara’s side. 

“That’s impossible,” Hades pronounced. “Only my brother could unleash such a punishment.”

“Not if his wife happened upon a certain sacred flame her husband keeps for his lightning induced rages,” Clara answered as both she and Astrid caressed the lute.

“This is really bad.” Apollo shook his head and began pacing.

“If and I repeat if, it was possible,” Hades snapped. “There must be a way to remove the spell. Zeus always leaves a back door, even if it’s twisted and punishment in itself.”

“Of course!” Astrid smiled brightly. “She has to remember who she is, not just the goddess part, but as your wife. She has to remember her love. Then the spell will be broken for both her and her mother.”

“But it won’t be easy,” Clara quipped. “She thinks she’s human and you--” Clara eyed him up and down, “aren’t exactly the romancing type. I doubt a swaggering, man-whoring, wanker magician is anyone she’d want to date.” 

Astrid nodded her head. “She thinks she’s nothing but a shop girl named Rose Tyler from an estate with no prospects. It’s so sad.” Astrid shook her head. “Rose is so special and now she’s lost her confidence along with her memories.”

“She’s in London?” Apollo asked, rubbing a hand on the side of his face.

“That’s not far from here,” Heracles noted. “Hell, we could sort this and be out for drinks tonight!”

“Oh no, I doubt that,” Clara noted.

“You have to find her first,” Astrid explained. “And you can’t technically use any special Olympian powers. Mr. Vincent here has to do this the old fashioned way.” Astrid eyed Hades dressed all in black leather.

“Do you even know how to date?” Clara asked with laugh. “I mean you didn’t exactly sweep her off her feet the proper way last time.”

“I am perfectly capable of wooing my wife!” Hades snapped. “I’m me and she’s her. We are meant to be and no fucking goddess will get in the way of that!” He scowled at the snow clouds darkening the sky while Cerberus wound around his legs whimpering.

“Good luck with that,” Clara quipped with the slightest snarky tone.

“Just remember: She knows nothing of you or your prior lives. She’s just a girl in the human world,” Astrid reminded him. 

“Maybe you should take a page out of your brother’s seduction playbook,” Heracles suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows. 

Apollo smacked him on the arm. “He will not! He’ll do this properly and solve this mess before the Earth turns into a frozen hell world.” Apollo turned a demanding brown eyed gaze at Hades.

“Of course I fucking will! She’s my wife and no one keeps her from me!”

“Well then, I think that concludes our business,” Clara answered with a lightness in her step. She laced her fingers with Astrid who twirled the lute. “The train station is five blocks down the street. You might want to do something with your dog. It would be a pity if someone had to report you for breaking the rules.”

“Train station?” Apollo gaped. 

“It’s not so bad!” Heracles slapped him on the back. “Doing things the human way can be fun!”

“Good luck!” Astrid called over her shoulder as the two skipped back to the school.

“Fucking muses!” Hades fumed. Snow fell harder. “Fucking vindictive goddesses!” he raged. Cerberus nudged his leg. Hades growled and reached into an inner pocket of his long back coat and pulled out three black leather colors studded with silver spikes.

He knelt before Cerberus. Three tongues hung out, dripping slobber, and six pairs of eyes focused on Hades.

“It’s insulting that you my, most trusted and fierce guardian have to degrade yourself and hide your magnificence.” He rubbed each head between the ears. “But you want Persephone back as much as me.” 

They barked and nuzzled him. “Fucking ridiculous!” He snapped on the collars and in the blink of an eye, the snarling, ferocious, scaled, three-headed beast transformed into a large white fluffy poodle. Hades shook his head. 

“Holy Stygian Witches!” Heracles said. “Now that’s some Olympus class magics. The pink bows are a nice touch.” He reached to ruffle the white fluffy pom pom fur adorned with said bow on the pup’s head and nearly lost a finger. “Alright, ease up.” Heracles held up his hands and backed away.

Hades attached a leash and stood. 

“I’m going to London. Cerberus knows her scent. We’ll find her and put an end to this.”

“We’ll go with you,” Apollo acknowledged. 

“I’m not asking.”

“Yeah, well, we’re offering,” Heracles added. “You’re not used to spending so much time on Earth or dealing with humans. Right now, Rose thinks she’s human. Whether or not you like it, you need our help.”

“Fucking brilliant.” Hades marched away, tall, white poodle trotting by his side.

“We’re all fucked, aren’t we?” Apollo asked. 

Heracles gripped his shoulder. “I dunno,” the hero confided as they followed Hades, who was exuding so much dark and angsty vibes, pedestrians flinched. “Could be fun though and especially when Rose’s mother wakes up and realizes what happened.”

Apollo squeezed his eyes tight. “A holiday away from Olympus sounds better and better.”

#

Four hours later, after a train ride, one uncomfortable stuffed taxi, and blocks of walking in the snow in London, Cerberus growled at a building, stopping them.

“Please tell me that hell hound is not relieving itself yet again,” Apollo groaned.

Hades knelt next to his demonic poodle. “Is she near?” He ran his hand across soft fluffy fur.

Cerberus focused on the double glassed doors leading into the building.

“Good girl.” Hades stood, snow melting around him as every ounce of godly hunting instincts unfurled deep inside him.

“Henriks? The Department store?” Heracles asked, gazing upward at the four story brick building with people streaming in and out.

“She’s shopping,” Apollo stated slowly and scowled. “If this is some lame attempt by the muses to make fools of us—“

“No.” Hades’ voice vibrated in the air beyond human hearing. Birds huddled near buildings flocked away at the sound.

“Rose would never willingly avoid me or refuse to answer my call. This is immortal fuckery.” A snarl emerged from him, and several pedestrians stopped and stared before giving Hades a wide berth.

“Hey now,” Heracles said in a soothing voice, sidling up to Hades. “Human world here. And we need to blend in and not send the locals scattering off and returning with torches and pitchforks.”

“Please let’s not,” Apollo agreed in a droll tone. “Let us not repeat the whole Jason and Argonauts drunken brawl.” He thumped Hades on the arm. “You’re a god, man, show some restraint. Now go in there and find her and start wooing. Do it the human way with no pyrotechnics.” He wagged his finger at Hades in admonishment. 

Hades scowled and straightened his coat. He flicked snow off his black silk dress shirt and straightened his shoulders. The human way. Heat flushed his neck in irritation. He didn’t do things the mortal way. He was Hades, God of the Underworld. Restraint was barely a concept to him.

But Persephone was in this shiny human temple to consumerism. And she allegedly wouldn’t know him. It didn’t matter. He’d won her heart once before with only a few words and gestures. Fuck everyone. He’d do this his way and she’d love him. They’d be back home and in bed before the first moonrise.

“Stay,” he commanded Cerberus. The dog sat her poodle arse down and looked at her master with adoration.

“You can’t just leave her here,” Apollo groused. “And I’m not standing in the bloody freezing weather with her waiting on your arrogant arse.”

“I’m agreeing with Rory on this one. Look, there’s a café across the street. We’ll wait in there for you.” Heracles knelt near Cerberus. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Help Uncle Jack meet some new gorgeous friends.” Heracles winked. 

Cerberus growled, his eyes glowing red. A woman screamed and ran away.

“There will be snacks,” Apollo announced and grabbed the leash. Cerberus jumped up wagging his tail, looking once at Hades, who waved his hand dismissively. The immortal gang fled to the café leaving Hades to face something far more exotic and terrifying: A four story department store.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for who read, kudoed and commented! I think this will ultimately be 3 parts :)
> 
> Peter V = Hades  
> Rose = Persephone  
> Donna = Athena  
> Martha = Artemis  
> Jack = Heracles  
> Rory = Apollo  
> The Master = Ares  
> Amy = Daphne  
> Mickey= Hermes  
> Wilf = Zeus  
> River = Hera  
> Twelfth Doctor with a touch of Malcolm = Dionysus  
> Clara = Calliope  
> Astrid = Euterpe  
> Yvonne Hartman = Harpy

Rose Tyler stared blankly at the piles of brightly colored cardigans she’d neatly folded and arranged like cut flowers in an artistic arrangement. Only they weren’t flowers. Polyester blend fabric in purples, mustard, peacock blue and evergreen, each one symbolized the monotony of her day. Fold, straighten, hang, and repeat.

Boring and uninspiring were the words that came to her mind. Yet she was grateful for the job. Most women in her position, twenty years old with no A-Levels, no training, in debt, and still living at home with their mums didn’t always have such opportunities. Most of her mates worked at either a chippy, the pub, or the butcher’s or were up the duff and married to a husband who had little to no prospects and only worried about the next night at the pub. There was nothing wrong with that life. But Rose yearned for something different.

Her mother was a hairdresser working out of their flat. Jackie Tyler enjoyed gossip, her shows, and date night with her boyfriend Howard at the local. Jackie never stopped reminding Rose of mistakes like dating the wrong man. Jackie had despised her ex-boyfriend, an entertainer, all dark good looks, arrogant with a tight arse a woman could worship. In the end he’d left her.

But that was the past and Rose was determined to put it behind her even if her mother liked to remind her constantly. And despite accusations of having heirs and graces from working at such a nice shop, Rose wanted to make this job work. Even if she had to put up with her stuck up bint of a manager, Yvonne Hartman. Speaking of, the posh and prejudiced manager swept by Rose’s section again commenting on how one hanger was askew.

Rose bit back the snide comment she wanted to make. She knew it wasn’t just her. Her mate Keisha two sections over got the same treatment. Both of them were off the estate working their arses off to keep their sections perfect and make an impression on the customers.

Sometimes they did. Rose loved working with people and enjoyed helping her ladies look as beautiful on the outside as the inside. Unfortunately, there were still a few, usually mothers with spoiled daughters, who took one look at Rose in her jeans and pink hoody, and stuck their noses in the air. The digs about needing a stylist and not one so fresh off the street were clear.

Rose kept smiling even through gritted teeth and would fetch one of the posher-dressed girls. Some felt sorry for her. A few smirked and enjoyed a nice fat commission at Rose’s expense. They liked Rose and Keisha. They did all the work and the stylists took all the commissions. On her darker days, Rose envisioned a hell especially for bitchy, stuck up sales girls.

Most days, Rose shrugged it off. Allowing her imagination free reign, she envisioned her section like a garden she tended. Customers were butterflies or annoying bees. Each display was like a patch flourishing with tulips, primroses, or gladiolas bursting with blooms. It was her retreat from the real boring world of her life.

“Rose!” Keisha loudly whispered, sidling over to her, bright brown eyes alight with mischief.

“Keish, you shouldn’t be here. The evil harpy was just by!” Rose admonished her friend. “Is that a new sweater?” Out of habit, Rose touched the fabric of the sleeve. The lavender looked gorgeous against Keisha’s complexion.

“Oh, no worries about her! She’s back in formalwear helping some rich bird buy a gown. Look to the right!”

“Keish,” Rose groaned, knowing this game Keisha liked to play to break up the day. Spot the annoying or oddball customer and make up stories based on what they wore. Still, Rose had to admit it was a bit fun. She peeked around a rack of maxi dresses. 

Her jaw dropped. No way could she miss the bloke Keisha stared at. Tall, thin, tousled brown hair, slight scruff shadowing his jaw, and wearing a long leather coat, he looked like a rock star fresh off the stage. With black-lined eyes and leather trousers glued to his skin, no way was he their usual customer. In fact, she’d expect him at a club mixing it up with the goth or punk crowd. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rose mumbled.

“Isn’t he gorgeous,” Keisha breathed next to her.

Rose wrinkled her nose and side-eyed her friend. “Keish, that is not the type you want. Trust me. Just look at him. He screams self-absorbed wanker. What kind of bloke walks into a shop as nice as Henriks dressed like that?” Rose shook her head. “That’s what my mum is always warning me of. Musician or actor or some underworld dweller who just wants to rip you away from your family, use you, and toss you aside.”

“That’s your mum talking,” Keisha admonished.

“Maybe.” Rose bit her lip in thought. “It’s all a bit fuzzy, that time in my life. Probably for the best.”

“He looks like he needs help,” Keisha said with a suggestive smile. 

Rose rolled her eyes. “So go help him before one of those predatory nymphs in cosmetics gets to him,” she said, brow wrinkling at how the man scrutinized each section of women’s wear. She hoped he wasn’t a stalker and felt for her mobile in her pocket in case she had to call security.

“Wish me luck.” Keisha ran a hand over her hip in her fitted black trousers and thrust her chest out before marching over to him. Rose sighed and watched her friend leave. She did not want to watch Keisha fall down into some dark, black pit of manwhore so she returned to her work.

As she straightened a dress on a hanger, she glanced once more over at Keisha. Just to make sure she was all right. Her gaze landed on the darkest, deepest brown eyes she’d ever seen. For a moment, the world ebbed away and she swore she stood in a green field before a black clad warrior. She blinked and wobbled against the rack of jeans.

The man prowled forward toward her. Keisha followed, staring at his arse. Rose’s heart beat double time as he approached, easily winding his way through the displays. Why were they heading over to her section? She internally groaned, wondering if Keisha wanted Rose to cover for her. The odd thing was the way he stared at her, as if he could see straight through to her soul.

“Rose Tyler.” He had an accent similar to hers but his voice prickled against her skin in a way most women loved. She almost wanted to hide her name tag and escape.

Rose looked at Keisha licking her lips. Yes, staring at Keisha was safer than looking at the hypnotic man who apparently expected her to answer him. She was so not engaging in any discussion with the leather wearing Prince of Skank. Nope, she’d learned her lesson and she was at this job to work.

“Rose.” Again, he rolled her name off his tongue with a seductive lilt. Her eyes were drawn to his no matter how hard she fought it. She couldn’t deny he had a handsome face, cheekbones dusted with freckles and a bottom lip she would have fantasized about at any other time.

But she was at work. And he was hardly her customer. He looked like some wet dream in a fetish club with all the skin-tight leather and black silk dress shirt. He continued to stare. Shit. She had to respond to him. It wasn’t like Keisha was any help the way she practically drooled over him. Rose cleared her throat.

“Sorry, can I help you?” He smirked and crossed his arms standing tall and proud. It annoyed her.

“You’re the only one who can,” he responded in the growling tone that now grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Look, sir, I’m not sure I’m the best person for whatever you’re shopping for.”

“I’ll help you!” Keisha answered with enthusiasm.

He arched a brow and focused on Rose. “That will be all, Keisha. Rose will see to me.” He turned away dismissively. Heat flushed Rose’s neck at the wanker’s autocratic manner. Keisha mumbled and rolled her eyes before returning to her section.

It was on the tip of Rose’s tongue to lecture him on rude behavior, but he was a customer. With a fake smile plastered to her face, she gritted her teeth.

“Well, sir, as you can see, we are in the young womens’ casual section. I don’t think I have anything that would suit you here.”

“I see what suits me,” he rumbled, and his gaze trailed down her body. That was it. Customer or not, he wasn’t allowed to leer at her.

“Look, maybe you’d be better served in the Men’s boutique?” she said, crossing her arms with a hint of tartness to her voice. He smiled brightly at her with a wolfish grin.

“I assure you, love, you are everything I need. In fact, I’d love it if we could--”

“Miss Tyler.” Rose was never so happy to hear the shrieking voice of Yvonne Hartman, who stormed over with her designer heels clicking on the floor in a menacing way.

“Miss Hartman, I was just directing this customer to--”

“I’ll handle Mr. Vincent.”

Rose’s brow furrowed. “Mr. Vincent?”

The man frowned and narrowed his eyes on Yvonne. “Miss Hartman is it?” His words were clipped and Rose felt an itch across her shoulders encouraging her to step back. Yvonne stood tall and poised in her designer navy suit, brown hair pulled back in a chignon, staring the customer in the eyes.

“Yes, I’m the manager on this floor. And I’m sure a man of your--” She paused and took in his appearance. Rose watched wondering what neutral, customer friendly comment Yvonne could possibly say about the sleazy wanker.

“Fame and celebrity requires our exclusive personal shopping experience. Of course, I will see to you personally.” She smiled stiffly, her grey-blue eyes staring daggers into the customer.

“I’m sure it does, and I’ll take Rose as my personal shopper.” His eyes drilled into Yvonne and a tense silence stretched between the two. Rose clawed her fingers into the denim jeans on the rack next to her, unsure who to look at. 

“I see,” Yvonne spat out and turned a haughty disapproving stare at Rose. Rose swallowed hard and tilted her chin up. None of this was her fault. But she needed this job and fault didn’t matter when you were the low person on the sales staff. Despite her need to show up her prissy supervisor, Rose tried for a neutral accommodation.

“Miss Hartman is right. I’m hardly qualified to help you with menswear.” A triumphant light lit Yvonne’s eyes, and Rose felt flames licking inside her head wishing the woman into a hell of nonstop bitchy customers. Mr. Vincent, whoever he was, almost seemed to read her mind on that point and smirked.

“Rose will do,” he said with an arrogant swagger. “She’s young and in tune with London street style. She’s just what I need to start off right here after spending so much time in Las Vegas. I trust her taste more than some stale, pretentious manager.” 

Yvonne’s nostrils flared, and Rose felt her heart race with exhilaration. She didn’t like this bloke, and everything about him screamed pain in the arse. But Rose enjoyed how he made Yvonne squirm.

“I’m sure you have other duties you must attend to,” he added. “I would hate for you to disappoint any of those all-powerful fashion deities who demand the utter devotion and submission of their supplicant.”

Rose was sure that was when Yvonne would explode. Her face reddened and her lips pursed. She even thought she heard Yvonne growl.

“Perhaps we could discuss your needs in private,” Yvonne recited in a venomous tone. 

Rose backed away to the other side of her section, noticing how all the sales associates peered at her section and the growing conflict.

“I’m not playing games. I know who you are and who you serve!” 

Rose didn’t want to look over at the customer who she knew loomed over Yvonne, but she couldn’t tamp down the curiosity. What the bloody hell was he talking about? Who did Yvonne serve? 

And then Rose’s imagination went wild. A leather wearing bloke had just asked her polished and proper manager who she served. She bit down on her knuckle to hold back her gasps. Yvonne was into BDSM… or a fetish club. Rose narrowed her eyes at the snippy and nasty manager. Clearly, the polished exterior was a front for some pervy, sadistic personality. 

Rose didn’t doubt that. An evil thought curled through her mind as she thought of Yvonne in some dark dungeon of a fetish club. She bit her lip giggling at the thought of the uptight, suit wearing Yvonne tying up some bloke - or maybe she was the one being tied up?

“You don’t come into my domain and question me, you--” 

Rose didn’t hear the rest of what Yvonne said.

“A word of advice. Don’t fuck with me.” 

Rose slid away after hearing the menacing growl in his tone. Maybe she should just take a sick day and avoid the whole mess. But then she’d lose pay. She groaned at her dilemma. She really needed the cash.

“Rose!” No doubting the pissed off tone of Yvonne. 

Rose walked slowly toward the two bristling at each other.

“Mr. Vincent is an important client,” Yvonne stated in a cutting tone and glowered at said client. “Take him to Menswear and assist him with his wardrobe needs. Keisha will cover your section. Make sure you give him the full Henrik’s treatment.”

“Of course she will!” Peter stated and arched a brow at Rose. “She’ll unleash her inner fashion goddess.”

Yvonne narrowed her eyes at him, harrumphed and walked away muttering something that sounded like underworld prick. 

Rose wrinkled her brow at that comment. This whole day was turning into some sort of Greek tragedy.

“I still don’t see why you’re insisting on me,” Rose added, scrutinizing her customer. “I mean you obviously got a style that I don’t…” she paused and shook her head, “understand, and I don’t even know who you are or why my manager is so irritated.”

He stared at her, a shadow passing over his face as he looked away across the store. The lights overhead flickered before he pinned her with his dark gaze.

“Peter Vincent, illusionist, entertainer, magician, and expert in dark things that go bump in the night.” He bowed before her in a grand sweeping gesture. Heat washed across her shoulders at how he wrapped his lips around the words, infusing them with a subtle flirtatious sizzle. “My shows in Vegas sell out weeks in advance. I’m sure your manager recognized me from a broadcast of one of my performances.”

Rose nodded. “Right, must have missed it. And you think I can help you do what exactly?”

“I just arrived in London. It’s not exactly Vegas style here.” He looked at two jeans-wearing teenagers who were pointing at him and giggling before again pinning her with a heavy stare. “You’re not like the fucking groupies.” He stepped forward until Rose swore she could feel heat radiate off him. “You have an air of honesty. I like that.” 

Rose bit her lip, still eyeing him with skepticism and mistrust. 

But something in what he said struck a chord. Keisha did drool all over him and several of the assistants, male and female, not so subtly walked by with lustful looks. God knows what one of those besotted sales associates would pick. Yvonne had a stick so far up her arse, she’d have him stodgy and boring suits. Rose would help him. 

She looked him over, walking around the tall figure with a narrow waist and broad shoulders, a silver ring piercing in one of his expressive eyebrows. He did have a rather fine, rounded arse. Yeah, she’d help him. And get a nice commission while she was at it.

“All right, menswear is over this way. Just so we’re clear, I’m picking out the clothes, you try them on and decide.”

“And you tell me how I look,” he suggested as he wound her arm through his and led her out of the women’s section. Rose wanted to jerk her arm away. He was just a little too pushy for her likes. She didn’t feel threatened though. And he did smell nice. It wasn’t like she hadn’t put up with worse.

“Yeah, I’ll tell what looks good or bad. But you get final decision and no coming back afterward telling me it’s my fault if you get buyer’s remorse.” 

“Oh, I won’t have any remorse. Neither will you,” he promised in a husky seductive assurance. 

Rose rolled her eyes. God, she was going to have a long afternoon with this one.

#

Fifteen minutes later, after grabbing items off a rack in one of the modern men sections, she shoved him into a dressing room. She chewed on her thumbnail, already regretting this. He strode out, shirtless and barefoot in dark denim jeans that molded to his long muscular legs like they were made for him. Her mouth went dry as he turned. There before her was the perfect specimen of a jean-clad male arse. She was sure some poet somewhere must have written a sonnet just on the perfection before her. A strange compulsion drove her forward to grab his bum. But a screaming baby in another section awakened her from her whatever spell had overwhelmed her.

“Yes, I think those will do, but what about--” Her voice drifted off as she took in his lean chest and, dear god, were those hip dimples? Her eyes were drawn to a gold medallion with symbols on it lying at the center of his chest. She bit her lip trying to hold it together and reminded herself he was a customer and there would be a nice commission.

“Is something concerning you?” He prowled over to her, his hips swaying provocatively.

“No!” she insisted and scowled at the amusement twinkling in his eyes. “We need to get you an entire outfit. You can’t just walk down the street like this.” She waved in between them making sure there was some form of distance.

“What? You don’t think this look is appealing?” Why did every word he said sound pornographic?

“Not on a public street.” She walked up, and, placing her hands on his shoulders, she spun him around and shoved him back into the dressing room. Her pulse raced at the slight contact of her fingers touching warm, firm skin.

She paced back and forth as he tried on more clothing. What was wrong with her? She didn’t react like this to customers. Even nice looking ones. And he was way out of her league.

He returned in another pair of jeans and a black dress shirt with white polka dots with the top three buttons undone. He grimaced. A giggle burst forth and she didn’t know why other than her gut instinct that the shirt was so not him.

“I’m sorry.” She covered her face as she tamped down her giggles. At first he scowled but then his face softened.

“I don’t do dots,” he said in a deadpan voice but then his voice lowered. “But I will if it makes you smile.”

She wiped at her eyes and calmed except for the warm sensation spreading across her chest. “Um, yeah, that’s not you.” She cleared her throat as the sensation of his gaze pressed inward. “Try one of the t-shirts and maybe that shorter leather coat.

“I like my coat,” he retorted and muttered about _things he would do for love_ and disappeared. 

Rose puzzled over him. Was he trying to impress someone? Figures there was someone else involved. The gorgeous ones were always taken.

The rest of the afternoon sped by. He modeled more jeans, black denim, distressed, and even some gray corduroy pants that looked painted on. Various t-shirts stretched across his lean torso mixed with a few dark-toned dress shirts paired with a tight leather coat that left Rose thinking about alone time in the shower.

Peter complained about fabrics and fucking annoying fashion. He shot daggers at any other male customers who dared approach them or ask her opinion. They spent hours together bickering over fabrics that chafed verses silk; and he even assessed her lack of fashionable clothing. Rose thought it ironic since he insisted she had good taste.

One particular row occurred over boots versus trainers.

“You’ve been foisting off choices which are questionable even if they are currently in fashion!”

“That’s what you hired me for,” Rose reminded him, hands on her hips.

“Yes,” he hissed. “I remember. But it was supposed to be more fun and less torture. And trust me, I know torture.” 

Rose rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you do. Part of the whole dark overlord of the underworld magic show I’m sure.”

He paused staring at her before rubbing at his jaw. “My turn. Payback’s a bitch.” He then grabbed her arm and dragged her over to a posh designer section wherein he picked out jeans, sheer silk tops and one blue sheath dress that accentuated every curve in her body in all the right ways. 

At first she bristled at the tight, fitted clothing. He lounged in a chair like it was his throne, directing hot looks at her when she exited the dressing room. Anger simmered deep within her at his arrogant manner, picking at his black painted nails, but something about his growling yes when he saw something he liked cut deep into her and not in the resentful _I’m going to kick the wanker’s arse_ way.

No, it was more liquid warmth stirring her toward that edge between angry and desire. Such a fine line and he seemed to constantly push her toward it. On one hand she saw him as an arrogant and demanding customer wanting her to fawn all over him. But then suddenly, she’d see past the eyeliner, the swagger, and tight clothing to someone real, hungry for companionship and more. 

She tugged at the hem of her blue dress, hovering over her knees. The skinny straps barely held the top up. It was the kind of the dress that screamed _fuck me_. And not something she wore, at least not anymore. It attracted the wrong kind of attention. At least that’s what her mother said. Yet…something about it spoke to Rose.

“You like it.” His voice rang with that rough, smoky quality.

“Yeah, it’s nice but not very me.” She refused to look at him and nervously tugged at the straps.

“You look beautiful. Like a goddess.” He silently appeared next to her, his breath ghosting over her ear, and she jumped away from him.

“Well, thanks, but I really can’t accept this. It’s too much. I appreciate you being nice and all but--”

“I’m the customer and buying this makes me happy. That’s your job, as I recall.” He crossed his arms and arched his right brow at her.

She bit her lip and fidgeted under his piercing look. Damn it. He had her on this one. And she did love the color. In the end, she gave in. He bought her the dress, jeans, and two tops. It was ironic she got a commission on clothing he bought her as a gift.

With armloads of bags she walked him toward the front. “Well, there you go. Hope it all works out for you.” A pang of emptiness dug at her as she walked him toward the door.

“Have dinner with me.” He stood in the new dark denim jeans and black striped top with his long leather coat over the whole ensemble and watched her. Rose had never felt so put on the spot. Yeah, sure, she’d like to see where he’d take her to dinner. But… he did act like he had a girlfriend. Complicated relationships were the last thing she needed. And she couldn’t forget how he walked in the store. No, he was not her type. 

“Sorry, I can’t. I should have been out of here a half hour ago, and I have to get home to my mum.”

“Of course you do,” he said with a snort. “Tomorrow then. Wear the dress.” His voice commanded her and Rose again fumed.

“Look, you may be used to your magical minions minding your beck and call but I’m not some lackey who complies with your every whim.”

“Of course you’re not.” He chuckled. “You are so much more. Go out with me. Let me prove to you I’m not a waste of your time. Give me a chance.”

Rose knew it was a bad idea but for some reason when she looked into his eyes, her determination to avoid complications dissolved into a pool of lustful abandon.

#

The door to Café Perdition opened with a gust of cold wind. Hades, Lord of the Underworld walked in, arms laden with white shopping bags. He glared at the patrons who all looked away focusing on their meals and coffee.

“What the hell happened to you?” Apollo asked, grumpily eyeing him over several empty coffee cups. “We’ve been in here for hours - and what’s with all the bags?”

Cerberus in all his white poodle glory trotted up to Hades, nuzzling the bags, woofing and wagging her tail.

“Well, that’s encouraging,” Heracles noted, slipping away from another table after bedazzling the occupants. “You found Rose, I take it?”

“Yes. She took me shopping.”

“Shopping,” Apollo stated in a monotone before snickering. He pulled out a mobile and snapped a picture.

“Don’t fuck with me, Rory. I’ve had… a day. It started with one of River’s revolting Harpy spies.” He dropped the bags and collapsed on a chair at the table. He picked up a coffee cup, sniffed and winced. “I need something fucking stronger.”

“We may need more help on this one,” Apollo noted.

“No,” Hades said quietly. “Rose will remember. She needs time and I can give her that.”

“Can you? Even with the worst blizzard to ever cover London?” Heracles asked as snow began piling up on the ground. 

Hades stared out the plate glass window at the onset of a blizzard, howling winds pelting pedestrians with ice and snow.

“Fuck,” Hades moaned and sent every vile and horrible thought he could think of to Olympus.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to RishiDiams who kindly offered to beta the whole story :) Although all errors lie with me as I added a couple things and am still learning google docs markups.
> 
> Peter V = Hades  
> Rose = Persephone  
> Donna = Athena  
> Martha = Artemis  
> Jack = Heracles  
> Rory = Apollo  
> The Master = Ares  
> Amy = Daphne  
> Mickey= Hermes  
> Wilf = Zeus  
> River = Hera  
> Twelfth Doctor with a touch of Malcolm = Dionysus  
> Clara = Calliope  
> Astrid = Euterpe  
> Yvonne Hartman = Harpy

The blizzard finally eased two days later. Two days of Hades prowling his luxury suite at the Four Seasons in London, cursing his nemesis, the Queen of Olympus. Heracles had escaped after the first twenty-four hours. Hades raged at that too, wondering where in all of Tartarus, bless that fiery pit, he could have run off to?

Hades dug through the bar of his suite grumbling about the indignity of being trapped and unable to unleash his godly frustrations. It was blatantly unfair that Heracles could escape and find comfort elsewhere when Hades was denied the comfort of his own wife. Then again, he smirked as he swirled midori in the glass tumbler, he had enjoyed Heracles flinching in fear of the hell poodle Cerberus constantly staring at him like a juicy steak. 

Apollo had locked himself away in the bedroom after sneaking his beloved Daphne in through godly means. Hades had glared at them quietly nuzzling near the fire the second morning.

“Sneaking your nymph girlfriend here was against the rules!” he snarled and hurled the glass of midori into the flames.

“Back off!” Apollo growled as his beloved ginger-haired Daphne arched a brow at Hades. “Amy and I aren’t part of this.”

“You used your godly powers!” Hades accused.

“We’re not the ones involved in River’s curse,” Daphne retorted, blue eyes flashing with anger. “You’re the one who lost your wife and you’re the one that has to follow rules for how to un-curse her!”

Smoke curled around Hades as he strode toward her.

“Back off, Vincent!” Apollo shot off the sofa and stood toe to toe with Hades. “This is your mess. You’re lucky we’re still here to help!”

Daphne stood. “Not that you deserve it, but I like Rose. She’s a friend. Even though she might be better off in some pathetic human existence rather than stuck with some dark and angsty Vegas magician--”

The flames flared in the fireplace and lights flickered. Daphne snorted and crossed her arms, standing next to her beloved Apollo.

“-- she deserves better than some pathetic human existence doubting herself and trudging through a mortal life,” Daphne continued. “She’s the best goddess I know and was always kind to me. Even when I was a tree.” She directed a heavy glare at Apollo.

“I said I was sorry for that!”

“And you’ll keep saying it, my beloved Rory,” she reminded him before turning back to Hades.

“You have her mobile number. Use it!” Daphne admonished.

“Perhaps you’ve not noticed, Amy,” Hades drawled out her human name like it was a curse. “But there’s a fucking ice age outside and I’m not allowed to use my fucking powers to melt us out of this damnable ice-encased hell!”

“It won’t get better if Rose doesn’t remember. It’s only this way because the goddess of the harvest is missing. Fix it and everything will go back to normal.”

“And how will I do that if I can’t even get to her? All of London is shut down. You’d think the humans would do something!” Hades stormed over to a window glaring at the white-encrusted buildings and streets, snow mounded over everything.

“It’s August,” Daphne pointed out. “They aren’t prepared for anything like this. They’ll dig out…eventually. But that shouldn’t stop you!”

Hades growled and stormed over to the fireplace and paused. “Where’s my dog?”

“It’s not my job to watch your hellhound,” Daphne retorted, examining her pink-tipped nails.

“Uh, he was here when room service delivered breakfast,” Apollo drawled and scratched at the back of his head.

“Fuck!” Hades stormed over to find his coat.

#

Cerberus, guardian of the underworld, refused to be confined to some boring human domain. It was bad enough she had to contain her magnificent form into some fluffy white aberration. Not to mention, it itched. She paused, scratching behind one of her ears. A pink bow flew off.

“Fuck.” She sniffed it and shook her fur. The pastel abomination could rot in Tartarus. She continued her stroll down the blue and green carpeted hall. She sniffed the air seeking out something to hunt. Bored of watching her master curse and storm to and fro; and Heracles having escaped her grasp, she needed entertainment; and possibly a nice juicy rat. Memories of the Black Death and her master allowing her nighttime jaunts amidst the putrid streets filled with the dead left her salivating.

Those were the good days. Rat-infested streets, humans hiding and fleeing their cities. The Underworld had been brimming with lost souls, and she’d been permitted to feast on some of the rodents afflicting the human population. The memory reminded her of home. Her tail drooped as melancholy weighed her down. It had been days since she left the Underworld and her hunting grounds.

This temperature-controlled, artificial world chafed at her senses. The three-headed hound inside longed for her rocky domain, nipping at the heels of any intruders and sometimes getting a nice bite of the undead attempting to flee. She missed the Styx and Charon, who sometimes tossed her a fish.

Most of all, she missed her mistress. Many a night Persephone and her master sat with Cerberus by a bonfire, bringing long sticks for her to gnaw sometimes topped with gooey white blackened treats. Her mistress and master were glorious together as they passed judgment on the dead. A blood pumping thrill shot through her at the thought of how fiercely her mistress would punish the unjust and cruel, sometimes worse than her master. Cerberus longed to help her mistress punish the worst offenders. But, no, she was stuck on Earth doing what? Relegated to some ordinary domesticated pet when she should be helping Hades find her mistress.

She snorted in disgust and boredom as she trotted down the hall, passing a human female. Cerberus tolerated the pats, cooing, and aren’t you gorgeous in hopes of some excitement or perhaps a treat or an open door to explore. A few times she darted in the lift, riding up and down, nose pressed to the floor, inhaling and processing scents and a few licks of humanity. 

Sometimes she snuck into a suite. It was all rather dull even when she was chased out. A simmering anger burned deep inside. She and her master needed her mistress. Her beloved Queen of the Underworld would put an end to this hell she’d been thrust into. She paused near a half-finished tray of food set outside a door. Why was she in her own hell? She was a good hellhound, always protecting her master’s domain.

She deserved better, dammit! Determined to resolve her incarceration, she darted into the elevator with a few humans, grumbling as they made their annoying awwws and ooooos scratching her between the ears. Her jaw quivered with the desire to snap off a few fingers. But then the doors opened and she escaped into the lobby. Yesss, the brightly lit lobby with its gleaming marble floors where there was people, food, and life. She eyed the glass front doors and the white, icy domain outside. 

She shuddered as a frigid wind blew in as more humans entered. Fuck that. She would stay inside no matter how much she wanted to hunt down her mistress and demand she fix this travesty of a situation.

And then her eyes narrowed on an enemy of her master. She’d know Athena anywhere. The ginger haired female known on Earth as Donna oozed goddess power and a certain arrogance. Her master often complained about the goddess constantly lecturing him about how to treat his wife. Slowly, Cerberus prowled past a lounge area and around a potted plant, keeping low to the ground. 

“Yes, I’m looking for Peter Vincent,” the goddess demanded of the tired-looking human male at the front desk. “And don’t tell me he’s not here. I know that skinny strip of nothing and this is just the place he’d hole up. Just ring him and let him know Donna Noble is here.”

Cerberus darted around a few humans, growing ever closer to her prey. Oh but she’d love a nip of a deity. It was forbidden in the Underworld. Her mistress often spoke fondly of the goddess but Cerberus could see how her master frowned at the name of Athena. Licking her chops, her paws making only a slight clicking noise on the floor, she approached. Just as she was within nipping distance….

“There you are!” Hades snapped a leash on her pink collar. “What have I told you about wandering off?” 

Cerberus barked her displeasure.

“Oh my gods!” Athena exclaimed. “What the hell have you done?” Hands on her hips she glared at Hades and Cerberus.

“Donna,” Hades spit out, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

Cerberus whimpered and nuzzled his leg, begging for the opportunity to do his bidding and teach the screeching goddess a lesson… underworld style.

“No,” Hades stated in a tight voice.

“Seriously, you brought your mangy mutt with you tucked away in comfort while Rose is out there somewhere, probably suffering.”

Goddess of wisdom or not, Cerberus couldn’t contain her outrage at the disrespect of her master. She knew very well how he suffered without her mistress. Unable in this wretched form to wreak the havoc she desired, she did the one thing she could to display her aggravation.

“What the hell is that stench?” Athena pinched her nose and stepped backwards. Several humans gasped and ran away. Cerberus grinned her toothy dog smile at the putrid stench of shite she had bestowed upon this place. She barked in her glee and looked up at her master for approval.

His face twisted up, and he growled. “Not helping.” He looked at the mound of steaming shite behind the happy hellhound. “Fuck.”

“Sir,” the bedraggled hotel clerk stepped forward, pinching his nose. “We are a pet-friendly facility but our rules state…”

“It’s fucking hard to walk her when there’s nothing but ice and the frozen tundra outside,” Hades defended.

“‘I’m sorry, let me clean that up,’ would have been the right response,” Athena noted, waving a hand in front of her face and turning away.

“Yes, fine, whatever,” Hades muttered and glared at the young man, whose face turned a pale green shade.

“Sorry,” Hades hissed with gritted teeth. “Do you have something I could, you know?” He waved his hand over Cerberus who slinked to the floor.

The hotel concierge stepped forward, the gold buttons on his navy coat shining in the light. He thrust plastic bags and paper towels at Hades, eyeing Cerberus, who growled. 

“You, quiet!” Hades ordered. 

The hotel employees jumped back. Hades smirked at their reaction before grimacing as he knelt down. 

“Fucking Tartarus,” he grumbled. “King of the underworld fucking cleaning dog shite.” He quickly cleaned the mess and shoved the excrement in a bag. “Someone’s going to pay.” He violently thrust the bag at the concierge. “Sorry for the dog. It won’t happen again.” 

He turned to Cerberus. “Will it?” The hellhound whined and sank even closer to the floor. Pissing off the master was not part of the plan.

“We need to talk,” Athena reminded him, tightening her bright purple coat around her.

#

After two shots of liquor, Hades absorbed Athena’s news.

“Hera thinks to remake the world while distracting Zeus with Mai Tais and bikini-clad humans?” He poured another. “Why am I not surprised?”

“And time is running out. It’s not just London. Crops aren’t the only thing dying, so are the humans, the animals, the whole world,” Athena explained pacing back and forth.

“If the humans die, we fade away,” Apollo noted, wrapping an arm around Daphne.

“But so would Hera,” Hades reminded them.

“Not if she tied herself to the curse,” Athena noted. “If Rose dies a mortal death before she remembers, Hera wins it all. She can remake the world however she wants. Zeus won’t be able to do anything about it. You have to find Rose now, before it’s too late.”

“Why hasn’t Zeus figured it out?” Apollo asked.

“They’re in the tropics. You’d think he’d notice his world turning into one big glacier,” Hades noted.

“Hera’s protecting their island and you know how Zeus is with beautiful young things larking about on a beach,” Athena noted with a snort.

Hades pulled out his mobile. Cursed thing was not something he’d ever intended to use. But he had to in order to find Rose. He sent a text and waited. Patience wasn’t his strong suit. He needed to vent at the person responsible for his aggravation. “Bloody vengeful goddess. I suppose her little waste of godhood, War, is safe?”

“You know she’d keep him safe.” Apollo stood and paced on the other side of the room. 

Hades stared at his mobile before pulling at his hair. Heat infused the room as his temper escalated. “Why isn’t she fucking answering me?”

“The age-old question,” Daphne noted, chewing on a fig. “Now you know what it’s like for most dating humans.”

“Not helping,” Apollo stated and his gaze fixated on Cerberus curled up in a corner. “Cerberus found her before.”

“That was before London turned into an ice age,” Hades responded but rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “If we could get close enough--”

“Ha, the internet!” Athena announced and whipped out her mobile. “Goddess of wisdom here. I know Google.” She smirked and tapped out search terms. Hades stormed over and peered over her shoulder. She stepped away. “Excuse me! My mobile. You and your rank self can stand downwind.” Daphne snickered.

“Shut it!” Hades snapped. “And I do not smell rank!”

“You do after cleaning up dog shite,” Daphne noted. 

“Amy,” Rory warned and walked over to the sofa. “Leave him be. More important things are at stake than vile excrement.”

Hades glared at Cerberus, who whined and curled up into a white poodle puff ball.

“Got it!” Athena announced with a proud smile. “Jackie Tyler, hair dresser, Bucknall House in Peckham. Call for an appointment.”

Hades circled the smirking goddess. 

“Go on, say it,” she taunted.

“Not until I find her,” he answered darkly. “Cerberus!” His voice reverberated in the suite, shaking windows with its intensity. The hellhound jumped up at attention.

“We’re going to find your mistress!”

#

After the mortifying need for GPS and transportation, which the Concierge seemed only happy to order to get Cerberus out of the hotel, Hades was off on his quest. The black cab slowly made its way down the icy highways, sliding and skidding on its torturously slow journey. Rose still had not texted him back. He tapped out another text trying not to sound commanding or needy.

_Rose, Peter, text me_ was the first terse communication. Later, _Rose, Peter, I am annoyed and bored. Please text me._ Again, _Rose, London is a frozen hell. I need to see you._ Still later. _Alright, I admit I’m desperate. Please tell me you’re safe._

The cab driver informed him electricity was out and communications had failed across the city. The phone melted slightly in his hand at his fury. Combined with anger, an icy dread filled him to his core. What if he was too late? Cerberus laid her head on his lap.

The trip took hours. He paid the driver, who stared at Hades, dressed in jeans, boots, and meager top with a long black coat the only thing protecting him from the cold. Or perhaps it was the sight of him with the white poodle jumping up and down in the snow, seemingly unbothered by the dropping temperatures or icicles forming on the buildings around them. Hades threw cash at him and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

He knelt down next to Cerberus, who was shaking off snow. “Find her,” he commanded. 

Cerberus howled in acknowledgment, sniffing the air before taking off, dragging Hades behind her.

They ran and slid through the snow, landing in one snow drift with a muttered, “I fucking hate ice.” Before long they’d circled three buildings and chosen one. They walked through the double doors into the darkened building. Cerberus paused. Two teenagers laughed and pointed at them. While Hades shook off ice, the boys circled behind him.

“We all have choices in life,” Hades announced without looking at them. “I ended up overseeing hell. You don’t have to go there.”

“Shut up and hand over the coat.” 

Hades turned, the full weight of his glare landing on one of the teens, who brandished a knife. 

“Are you sure about that? Sure that’s the path you want to take?” Cerberus growled a deep menacing sound, eyes flashing red in the dim emergency light of the building interior.

“No way, man,” the second boy gasped and ran out the door into the snow. The other boy’s hand shook as he took in Hades’ tall form.

“I don’t have time for this. Leave now or things get nasty.” He let go of Cerberus’ leash and the dog’s lips curled back, revealing less poodle fangs and something a bit more monstrous. The boy screamed and ran away.

Hades straightened his coat and looked at Cerberus. “Yes, that felt good.” He looked upward. “And I didn’t technically break the rules, you cold hearted witch! Cerberus, find your mistress!”

Four flights of stairs and one long trek through the building later, they stopped at #48. The building was freezing with no electricity. Several people huddled in a hall, smoking and wrapped in blankets. Fear clawed at his throat. What if he was too late?

He knocked and held his breath. A familiar looking middle-aged blonde woman answered. It took all of his self-control to not howl with laughter at Demeter, Goddess of the harvest dressed in a pink tracksuit, trainers and wrapped up in multiple layers of cardigans. She pulled out a cricket bat and gripped it with menace.

“I’m warning you, we got nothing in here. So piss off and go bother someone else!”

“I’m trying to find Rose,” he said as she tried to close the door. Cerberus whined and jumped on the door.

“Mum, stop it! We’re all in this together.”

“Peter,” she gasped and pulled her thick puffy jacket around her as she stood next to Jackie. A stunned silence enveloped her.

“I tried texting you.”

“I ran out of charge.” Her breath seemed to escape with her words. Peter Vincent, her annoying customer who had gifted her beautiful clothing was there… at her door.

“Well, don’t just stand out there gossiping! You’re letting out what heat we have,” Jackie complained.

Rose ushered him in but not before nearly being knocked over by a large white poodle. She giggled as it wagged its tail and licked at her face.

“Oh but you’re gorgeous!” she cooed over the dog and led them inside to the small flat she shared with her mum.

“So how did you find me?” she asked as Peter’s tall frame filled part of the tiny living area.

“What do you mean how’d he find you?” Jackie demanded again reaching for the cricket bat.

“Mum, just stop. Peter’s not bad. Even if he’s dressed a little--”

“This the one that bought you all those clothes then?” Rose sighed at her mother’s suspicious tone. She’d not been pleased when Rose explained how she arrived home with clothes that cost more than she made in a week.

“This is Peter Vincent. He’s my client and, well, a friend now.”

“More than a friend I hope… at least one day,” he quickly added, eyeing Jackie with an amused step backwards.

“Peter’s from America. You know how Americans can be. He wanted to fit in and I was going to help him out a bit.”

“Help him out,” Jackie repeated. “Rose.” She drew out Rose’s name in a tired well-practiced tone. Rose ignored her, too busy smiling at the happy poodle circling her legs.

“So, how’d you find us and who is this adorable pup?”

“Well, when you didn’t answer my texts, I was worried, so I looked you up online,” he responded, raking a hand through his hair, hearing Athena’s laugh miles away. “Anyway, I’m here now.” 

A giggle bubbled up in Rose’s chest at the thought that the same leather-wearing Peter parading around Henriks like God’s gift to women had a fluffy white poodle. But what warmed her more was that he cared enough to somehow find her even in a snow storm.

“Don’t let that thing get hair on the furniture!” Jackie admonished. Rose rolled her eyes. 

“Mum, see if you can find something for her.”

“The dog? Rose we barely have enough--”

“It’ll be fine. Peter will help us out. Won’t you?” she asked part in a challenge to see how far he would go. And yes, maybe she was testing him.

“Of course! I didn’t come all this way just for tea. Not that we can have tea in this hellish cold. Why don’t you have a furnace in this place?”

“It’s down,” Jackie answered with her typical cutting voice. “Everything around here breaks. Maybe you didn’t notice but it isn’t exactly Kensington Palace.”

Rose watched Peter, again waiting to see how he’d respond. You could tell a lot about people when in a crisis or when faced with one’s demanding mother.

“Maybe I’ll just take a look. I have gift with furnaces and fires. Rose can help me.”

“In that dark nasty basement? I don’t think so!”

“Mum,” Rose sighed. “If he’s nice enough to try and get us heat, I’ll give him a hand. It’s the least I can do after he made it all this way.”

“Cerberus, stay.” Peter quietly commanded.

“Sir Bus?” Rose asked, her brow furrowing at such an odd name for a poodle.

“Cerberus,” Peter enunciated. “She likes you.” 

Rose’s face heated at the purring way Peter spoke. Something inside her defrosted even in the cold building at the thought that Peter’s dog liked her.

“Mum will watch her. Won’t you?”

“Not like I have a choice, is it?”

Rose walked over and hugged her. “We’ll be right back. Wrap up in some blankets.”

Rose walked over and fit her hand into Peter’s. “Ready for an adventure?” she asked with more bounce in her step than she’d had in days.

“With you, always.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Rishi-Diams who betaed this fic for me!
> 
> Peter V = Hades  
> Rose = Persephone  
> Donna = Athena  
> Martha = Artemis  
> Jack = Heracles  
> Rory = Apollo  
> The Master = Ares  
> Amy = Daphne  
> Mickey= Hermes  
> Wilf = Zeus  
> River = Hera  
> Twelfth Doctor with a touch of Malcolm = Dionysus  
> Clara = Calliope  
> Astrid = Euterpe  
> Yvonne Hartman = Harpy

Rose grabbed a torch from a cupboard before leading Peter out the door. “I still don’t understand how you found me.” She shivered as they descended the flights of stairs toward the main floor.

“I’m clever,” he responded with a cocky swagger, his thumb tracing over her cold knuckles. 

“Yeah right.” Rose bumped her shoulder into his. “Stuck in some freak storm that shuts down the city and you and your dog just happen to find your way to Peckham, to my building?” Some of her mother’s suspicion itched at the back of her mind. She was happy to see him but she couldn’t shake off a healthy dose of mistrust.

“You gave me your mobile number.” His voice held just a tinge of bite to it. “And I have resources.”

“Resources?” she scoffed. “Last time I checked you can’t just snap your fingers and get an address based on a mobile number.”

“I’m a magician,” he growled. “And I have--” he squeezed his eyes in pain, “friends in the right places.” This was followed by an almost perceptible curse.

“Well,” Rose answered, “I’m glad you pulled some strings and came to check on me. Not that it’s dire yet. Mum and I have been through worse. It’s just nice to know someone cares.”

They reached the main floor and he stopped and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his incredibly warm hand.

“I do care.” 

Rose felt herself falling into his molten brown eyes before another shiver trembled through her.

He pulled her against his body and wrapped his coat around her. “You’re freezing. You should have said something.”

Rose slipped her arms around his waist and burrowed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. She inhaled a slightly smoky, spicy scent and an odd comfort and peace settled across her. It was odd how her emotions churned when she was around him. One moment she wanted to shove him away and keep her distance, the next, she warmed to the glimmer of pain and longing she saw reflected in his eyes. And then there were the moments she wanted to cuddle close to him. 

Wrapped up in his arms and shivering for different reason, it was difficult to remember what a prat he’d been at the shop. But her mother’s nagging voice cut through her cuddly haze. She reluctantly pulled away.

“Thanks,” she stuttered, her cheeks flushed. She cleared her throat and found him staring at her intensely. She nervously tugged at her gold hoop earring. “Well guess the cold doesn’t bother you does it?”

“I hate it,” he said with a snort. 

“I suppose coming from Las Vegas you would,” Rose said, inserting small talk to break the building tension between them. “Still, you certainly are hot stuff.” She winced and walked toward the utility room door.

He chuckled in a warm throaty way as he pressed the door open by her side. Rose’s neck and cheeks heated at the crackling sound of his voice. She really needed to watch what she said. Cold air swirled upward from the dimly lit stairs leading downward into the basement. A flickering yellow emergency light stuck to the wall lent to an eerie sensation crawling up her back.

She did not want to go down there.

“I’ll go down first,” his voice deepened with none of the prior teasing.

“Are you sure?” Rose peered into the inky blackness. Her chest squeezed tight with an odd sensation of claustrophobia or maybe it was just childhood fears of the dark. The musty, slightly putrid odor wafting upward didn’t help. She shifted closer to Peter.

Hades inhaled deeply, sensing Rose’s hesitation. Something not of the mortal world lurked in the depths of the basement. So much for rules, he fumed. 

“You don’t have to be all manly man about this,” Rose inserted. “We could go down together.”

A smile curled at the corners of his mouth. Of course she’d want to face it with him. Even in her human form, his Persephone leaked through. He’d seen it at Henriks. Even just a few moments ago when she embraced him, he’d felt his beloved just beneath the surface. And that was why he had to protect her in her fragile mortal state.

“Well, not that I’m turning down a stroll in the dark with a beautiful woman but…” A scratching noise interrupted them. “The rats sort of ruin the mood.” 

Rose swallowed hard and nodded. He took the torch from her.

“I’ve got boots on. I’ll clear the way and you can be my backup.”

“All right,” she agreed in a thin voice. “Just give me a shout and don’t take any stupid risks.” Her voice firmed up. “I mean the stairs are steep and the lighting’s rubbish. Don’t make me have to drag your arse back up.” 

He arched a brow at his blue puffy jacketed protector before leaning toward her. “Kiss for luck?” 

Rose rolled her eyes. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” she responded, a slight hint of a cocky sarcasm strengthening her voice. 

Annoyance grated at him again and he pulled away. But before he could step into the stairwell, she gripped his arm.

“I didn’t say no.” She grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and yanked him down. After one searching look into his eyes, her lips brushed against his. Heat flowed through him hot enough to incinerate the building. A wicked need to sweep her away tore through him as he tasted the whisper of her breath laced with the scent of tea and biscuits. 

He squeezed her shoulders and flicked out his tongue to tease her. She softened slightly before stilling and pulling away. Rose’s eyes widened and she touched the pads of her fingers to her lips.

Triumph and confidence pulsed in his chest. He was so close to unlocking her heart and freeing his beloved from this abomination of a curse. Rose wrapped her arms around herself even as her cheeks flushed pink. And for the first time since arriving in London, his tension eased.

“I won’t be a moment. Stay safe.” 

She nodded, watching him with far more interest than just a customer or casual date.

Hades descended the stairs like the Master of the Underworld he was. He shined the torch downward even though he didn’t need it. Rose watched and he listened to her breath hitch at each thud of his boots. Although aggravated at causing her even the tiniest bit of worry or discomfort, he took comfort in her safety from Hera’s treachery scurrying below.

“Tread carefully and mind who you are dealing with,” he said, muffling his voice to a low growl inaudible by human standards. The scuffling and scraping sounds stopped. The air in the basement stilled. The torchlight ebbed and raw power prickled against his skin.

His eyes narrowed in through the thick darkness to a human-like form. Well, human-like if you discounted wings and gray talon bird-like feet scraping the against the dirty concrete floor. A piercing screech echoed in the small room criss-crossed with pipes and decrepit wiring.

The creature charged. He reached out and wrapped his hand around a feathered neck; it’s iridescent eyes glowed in the dim emergency lighting. 

“Underworld prick,” hissed from the feminine mouth of Yvonne Hartman, less immaculate, suit-wearing manager, more half-woman, feather and scaled harpy.

“You should have left things be!” she warned.

“Now, you know I wouldn’t do that.”

“My queen will destroy you all, and all those loyal to her shall be rewarded.” 

Hades sighed as his grip tightened on her downy neck, holding her just out of reach. She flapped her wings, feathers flying everywhere.

“You can tell your Queen she can shove it up her--” 

Yvonne lunged forward for his neck. A clawed foot ripped across his chest as she launched herself into the air hissing at him.

“Fuck! I just bought that!” Blood stained the ripped fabric as the wounds already began to heal. “I have had enough of this goddess bullshit!” he growled and grabbed Yvonne around her bird-like feet and swung her against the wall.

“Peter, are you all right down there?”

“Fucking fantastic,” he responded with gritted teeth still struggling with Yvonne.

“You shall pay for that you death-dealing fiery fucker!” 

“Oh please!” Hades responded with disdain.

“I’m coming down!” Rose called out.

“And you’re going someplace a lot hotter,” Hades directed at Yvonne before a smoking hole opened in the ground and he whipped her into the grasp of dark tendrils singeing her wings. “Have fun in Tartarus.”

“You’ll never win! She will despise you!” Yvonne’s voice hissed before she disappeared in a squawk of burnt feathers.

“And that’s what happens when you break the rules,” Hades stated, straightening his jacket just as Rose ran down the last few steps.

“Peter? Everything all right? I thought I heard…something weird. I’ve heard stories of rats as big as cats down here.” She peered around the room and wrinkled her nose. “God, it smells like burned shit!”

“Yes, well I think something met its end in the fiery depths of the… you know…furnace.” He coughed into his hand and bent down to retrieve the torch. 

“You’re hurt!” 

“It’s nothing. Just a few scratches from an annoying pest. It’s gone now. Shall we?” He tilted his head indicating the blackened metal furnace sitting ominously off to the side. Rose eyed a few dark corners stacked with old rusty containers and metal pieces of pipe before nodding.

She held the torch. He banged on the metal device dramatically, flicking switches before peering inside. 

“That was real nice of you,” Rose said, watching him. “To come down here and do this and face the rats and all.” She shifted her feet again, glancing at darkened corner of the room.

“Nothing I can’t handle and especially for you.” He wiped his hands on his jeans, grimacing at the grimy dirt. 

“Why especially for me?” Rose asked. She shivered in the darkness before meeting his gaze. Again, she warmed to her core just looking into his eyes. 

Earlier she’d been hesitant to descend into the darkness. Something clawed at her insides warning her to turn away and run back to her mother. But she couldn’t. Not with Peter down there and especially not after the horrible noises she heard. Instead, she’d raced down uncaring what she might find, needing to make sure he was alright.

“Because you’re--” He hesitated and swallowed hard. “Rose. And you took a chance on me. Gave me your time and patience.”

Rose stepped forward, drawn to the rough catch in his voice. It was insane how attracted she was to this man, a virtual stranger, and yet it was like she knew his soul. Of course, the gorgeous tousled brown hair and lean form didn’t hurt. But it was more than physical appearance that struck through her. Whatever pulsed between them went much deeper. 

“I feel like I know you…like we’ve known each other forever but it’s only been a couple of days since we met.” She pressed her palm against his shirt over his heart, enjoying the steady thump as if it pounded through her.

He covered her hand with his. “I feel the same, have felt the same since the first moment I saw you.”

“That’s silly.” She looked down shyly, elation coursing through her at his romantic statement.

“It’s not. You stood out amongst all others and always will. Anyone could see it. Your manager did. It’s why she kept trying to keep you down and why you didn’t let her.”

Rose felt the breath woosh from her lungs. “It’s a nice line. I’m sure you say it to all the girls.”

“No line. You’re better than that.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lifted her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles. This was happening. In a rat-infested basement, in front of a broken down furnace, Rose felt the toe curling sensation of being swept off her feet. She shouldn’t believe him. He was an entertainer and used to people swooning around him. She’d seen enough of that at Henriks.

And all she wanted to do was wrap herself around him. 

“Rose?” His voice was hesitant as if he wasn’t sure how she’d react. 

Rose wasn’t sure of herself at the moment. She stood on a precipice of indecision and it felt like the weight of the world pressed downward on her. Did she run back to the safety of her mother, away from his swagger and possible heartbreak? Or did she say fuck it and dive in head first at a chance of loving someone who lived life to the fullest and wanted all of her, even the slaving away shop girl?

“I… it’s just it seems like some impossible fairy tale. Here’s you, this famous magician sweeping into my life, telling me all these things that mean so much to me. And then there’s me, just working in a shop, no A-Levels and no real direction in my life, just living my life day after day.”

“No fairytale could possibly convey what I feel for you. It’s too big for mere words.” He paused and wrapped her hands in his, conveying warmth and comfort. “Wealth and power can be overrated. Not, that they aren’t pleasurable.” His voice crackled against her skin. “But what are those things without a partner, someone to tell you when you’re a prick or help you find light in the darkness.”

The world ebbed. Rose’s heart raced like she was being swept away on galloping horses clinging to the man who just revealed the dark crevices of his soul. 

“It’s your choice. It always has been,” Peter promised in his ragged voice, emotions simmering in his eyes.

Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as love burst forth. “Hades.” The word shook through her into the ground beneath her feet. The world trembled around them as she stepped into his arms. He murmured Persephone against her lips as she pressed her mouth softly against his. A roaring sound filled the room as their bodies pressed together. 

The familiar taste of him on her tongue caused heat to explode around her as she shattered the icy cage containing all she was, knew, and wanted. Persephone, Goddess, Queen of the Underworld unfurled herself, curling around her husband and simultaneously stretching forth across the mortal plane. 

Love burned away doubt and reservations. She loved Hades with every pore of her being and poured herself into him. He groaned, fingers digging into her arse as he hitched her leg around his hip. Evidence of his desire poked her firmly in the abdomen. A throaty laugh bubbled through her, enjoying how he bent to her desire.

She raked her nails through his hair, pushing her mind into his until the reality of what drove them to this place, this basement, and London crashed through her lust. 

“That Olympian bitch!” Persephone stepped back, breathing hard.

“My love, perhaps we could--”

“We will not!” Her words shook the building. The furnace shuddered, even as it pushed heat upward through decrepit pipes and conduits. Persephone paced back and forth, fuming over all that had happened to her, Hades, and to the mortal world. 

“Dearest?” Hades spoke with a soft tone, attempting to wrap her in his arms. Persephone thumped into his chest before gazing down at a spot on the floor that had consumed a harpy.

“Have a lovely time in hell, you half-rate sales bint!” She turned back to Hades. “Nicely done.”

“My pleasure. Speaking of pleasure--”

Persephone smiled and traced her fingers across his jaw until he nipped at her fingertips. “Yes, I want that too, but not in some dingy basement.” Her nose wrinkled. “We need to check on my mum.”

“Why,” he drew out in a whinging voice. “She’s fine now that you remember. And the world will be sorted shortly enough.”

Persephone sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Of course he’d pull the reluctant and petulant god thing. Hades and her mother had never gotten on. But now he’d saved them both along with the mortal world and not just with a snap of his fingers. He’d had to work for it. A smile emerged.

“Beloved.” She wrapped her lips around the words traced her fingers across where his shirt was ripped. “She’ll be grateful and so will I… later.”

“How grateful?” he gruffly demanded, his shoulders thrown back in a perturbed god way. 

“Very. Maybe even in an orally fixated way involving leather and silk ribbons.”

He rolled his shoulders. “I suppose we should check on things topside. Just to make sure everything’s back as it should be.”

“That’s my dearest husband.” She leaned up and enjoyed another tongue tangling snog with him before leading him back up the stairs toward the flat in which she’d lived in her human life.

“Where the fuck have you been!” her mother demanded as they walked in. Demeter was surrounded by their Olympian friends, Apollo, Daphne, Athena and Heracles, all dressed for winter weather.

“Did you see what that peacock-loving--”

“Mum,” Persephone warned.

“Please don’t,” Heracles added. “We don’t need to invoke any more trouble. The world’s suffered enough.”

“No shit!” Demeter shouted, storming over to window. “Just look out there! It’s summer! It’s supposed to be green, growing, and fields preparing for a harvest! See what she’s done!” And then she looked down at herself. “And look at this outfit! A track suit! Me, the most beloved goddess of the harvest, of those who worship the life cycle on Earth and all things growing.” She winced and then narrowed her eyes on Hades who stood unflinching.

“And you! What in Olympus took you so long?”

“Mum, please. He had to do things like an ephemeral. You know how hard things are in the mortal world. Besides, I think he was brilliant.” Rose curled up to Hades’ side and wrapped her arm through his. “He swept me off my feet again by just being himself.”

“Oh, please,” Demeter groaned.

“Stuff it, Jackie,” Hades growled, pulling Persephone tighter against his side.

“He really did work at it,” Apollo added, running a hand nervously through his hair. 

“He was a bit rubbish at first,” Daphne said, standing next to Apollo, tugging her white fur coat around herself.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Athena added with a snort, toying with the end of her multi-colored knit scarf.

“But it all worked out. He saved both of us,” Persephone reminded her mother. “And stopped a certain someone from killing everyone including us.” Demeter’s face softened.

“I suppose,” she admitted with hesitation, tilting her chin up still glaring at Hades. “I guess you expect me to thank you.”

Hades released a pent-up breath, eyeing Demeter. “No,” he answered simply. “I expect you to be the goddess you are, proud and benevolent, and extend your grace upon this world as it was meant to be.” Demeter’s jaw dropped slightly. Hades smirked. “Besides, I have all the thanks I need - and speaking of which we should really be off.”

“It’s not your turn yet.” Demeter clenched her fists, flowers in a nearby vase wilting at her anger.

“I’m entitled to a reward!” Hades snarled. “And it’s not like you still didn’t have time with her even in mortal form.”

“That shouldn’t count!” Demeter retorted. 

“Mum,” Persephone groaned. “He saved us and the world.” 

Demeter crossed her arms and huffed out her displeasure before walking over to the wilted flowers and bringing them back to their former beauty. “All right. I suppose I can live with that.”

“And I promise to not interfere with any retribution you may seek against certain persons who afflicted this curse upon us.” He smirked slightly, staring upward. “In fact, I think suddenly the Underworld’s supply of peacocks might be in need of refreshing. Such a pity how the nasty weather has affected them.” 

Demeter perked up, an evil smile lighting her face.

“Look, both of you,” Persephone paced in between them. “We don’t need another war.”

“Please, let’s not,” Apollo groaned, wrapping his arm protectively around Daphne.

“Look,” Athena inserted. “Zeus won't be pleased with all this when he finds out, and he will find out. Poseidon got annoyed when some of his sirens got frostbite. Trust me, Zeus knows.”

“Yeah, I heard about a hurricane forming over the Bahamas,” Heracles said and stretched out in a chair, hands behind his head, boot clad feet propped up on the coffee table. “A real doozy of a storm from what I heard.”

“Good.” Hades nodded and reached for Persephone’s hand before pausing. “Where’s my dog?”

“Cerberus,” Persephone perked up anxious to see her beloved pet. Knowing Cerberus was near elevated her mood even among bickering Gods. 

“Well?” Hades demanded and stared at Demeter.

“It’s not my job to watch your hellhound!” A cold feeling sunk into the pit of Persephone’s stomach. Cerberus was magnificent but if Persephone could suffer a curse…

“Mum, she’s my dog, too. Now where is she?”

A whimper sounded behind the sofa. Rose’s heart stuttered. She raced Hades to find her beloved pet, well, not exactly the pet she remembered.

“Cerberus,” she breathed out dropping to her knees and ran her hands over fluffy poodle fur. “What have they done to my gorgeous baby!”

“It’s just temporary,” Hades explained in a biting tone. “I had to hide her and then there was whole ‘thou shalt not use fucking Olympian powers’ rule.”

“But what’s wrong with her?” Rose’s voice cracked as she ran her hand over the distended abdomen of her not so vicious and monstrous dog. “I mean surely she shouldn’t be--” She couldn’t get the words out as she gazed into miserable brown dog eyes. She picked a mangled pink bow out of her fur and turned her fury on her husband.

“What the fuck is this?” She hurled the pink abomination at Hades.

“Wait just a tic!” Hades retorted. He knelt by Persephone and ran his hand over his dog and paused. “She was not like this when we arrived.” He rose up in godly glory.

“Who the fuck knocked up my dog?” 

“What?” Rose shrieked and eyed everyone in the room, smoke curling around her not unlike her husband. It wasn’t bad enough she and her mother were victims, but no one fucked with her dog.

“Don’t look at me.” Heracles jumped up. “That’s not my thing. Now maybe I could think of a few demigods who might--” he drifted off at Persephone’s scathing glare.

“You were in charge,” Hades said pointing at Demeter.

“It’s not my fault if your dog wandered off and did something disgusting!”

“On the bright side,” Heracles added with a levity no one in the room, including Persephone, appreciated. “Puppies! I mean hell pups but still more little guardians for the underworld!”

The air in the room thickened and filled with the scent of sulfur and burning wood. 

“And that’s my cue to be off. Nice seeing you again, Rose. Good luck with the--” He trailed off and backed out the room but not before tripping over a large, mixed breed hound.

“There you see!” Athena nodded and walked over to pet the dog, which wagged his long tail. Persephone narrowed her eyes on the defiler of her beloved Cerberus. Hades quietly muttered fuck next to her.

Demeter looked outside and smiled. “The sun’s out. We’re all back to ourselves, you have your dog. My work here is done. If you’ll excuse me, I’m having drinks with Poseidon.” She disappeared in a shower of gold quickly followed by Apollo, Daphne, and Athena.

Persephone sighed and scratched Cerberus between her miserable ears. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get you home and make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Comfortable? She’s fucking about to burst!” Hades growled and glared at the mutt in the doorway, who slunk away. 

Cerberus growled out her displeasure. She cursed this damnable human world and untrustworthy canines. One sniff and a shared bone had doomed her. She woofed miserably at her mistress, lamenting the numerous offspring gestating - or as Cerberus saw it, tiny minions sucking the life out of her, awaiting their release to terrorize and tire their monstrous mother. She sighed and thunked her head onto the floor, plotting revenge on the fates and whatever other deities plagued her life. 

Persephone reached for the abominable pink collar to release Cerberus from her poodle state.

“Not here. We’ll do it in the Underworld in case she… explodes or something more vile happens,” Hades said grumpily. 

Cerberus eyed her master with what Persephone would call a toothy annoyed grimace.

“Don’t worry, beloved,” Persephone cooed to Cerberus. “We’ll get you sorted and back to your gorgeous scaly self. I suppose having more little hellhounds isn’t the worst that could happen.” 

Cerberus moaned miserably.

“Don’t you get domestic,” Hades warned. “We are not adding to Olympus. It’s already brimming with idiot gods, psychopaths, and muses who make life hell for those around them.”

For the first time ever, Persephone slapped him on the shoulder. “We are not spawning anything!” she announced tartly. “We’re taking care of our dog. Now come along, husband, we have souls to judge, a hellhound to birth--”

“And shagging.” A filthy grin graced Hades’ face. 

“And lots of shagging,” Persephone agreed with a tongue-teasing grin.

After a gurgle and shudder of her pregnant abdomen, Cerberus wasn’t sure that was such a good idea.


End file.
